Immunity: Apocalypse Weird

by E. E. Giorgi

  “And now they just told us we could be next. We’re all going to die. Pretty soon, actually. Don’t you ever think it’s just too late to find a cure? Seems to me like we’re doomed already. Half of California has turned into zombies, the other half has been hit by nuclear radiation… what else is there left to hope for?” He looked at her and for the first time since she’d met him she didn’t see a clueless nerd but eyes that were sincere and clear and honest.

  He turned around, crossed his arms and leaned his back against the railing. “Why does it still matter this much to you?”

  She clenched her jaw. “I’m not giving up just because they told us we’re all going to be next, if that’s what you’re asking. I am going to fight this until the end.”

  Yes, but why, Anu? she asked herself.

  You know why.

  Because of her.

  “I owe it to my mother,” she said, whispered almost. And then it came out, the story she’d never told anyone. Before she could stop them, the words were already spilling out of her lips.

  Dr. Kavya Sharma had attracted a lot of attention when, in 1990, she announced she had found a mutation that made the highly zoonotic H7N7 flu virus affect human behavior. The bug was already dangerous for its potential to infect so many different species—from birds to mammals—and Kavya’s discovery made it even scarier. What if the mutated strain fell in the wrong hands?

  For years Kavya had worked on H7N7 in secret for fear of the repercussions. She’d finally decided to come forward with her discovery to pressure the scientific community to find a vaccine before the virus could be used as a bioweapon. The science community, in turn, harshly criticized her. An isolated scientist, and a woman, too. Big names in the field demanded to see her results and cast doubts on her honesty and motivation. A prestigious journal promised her the spotlight in exchange for the exclusivity on the publication of her results.

  One week later, in the midst of a huge controversy, Kavya set her lab on fire and killed herself, all her lab notes and data destroyed in the explosion.

  Nobody was able to reproduce her findings.

  Nobody believed she ever achieved what she had claimed. Shame fell on her and the family, the suspicions of foul play too great to be forgotten.

  Not even Anu had forgiven her own mother.

  Not until H7N7 resurfaced, a pandemic of unprecedented proportion. The virus not only affected human behavior it made people crazy, so crazy they started killing one another. Mothers stabbed their children. Husbands strangled their wives. Drivers squashed pedestrians in the streets. And what was even worse, it still wasn’t clear how the virus spread from one person to the next, as some people fell ill without any prior contact with an infected person, while others remained immune.

  H7N7 had always been the most zoonotic of all flu strains—it jumped from one species to another with extreme ease, and every time it did, it resurfaced with new mutations that made it stronger and more virulent. The latest mutated kind affected human behavior just like her mother had predicted. For Anu, it hit home.

  Had her mother really found something? But then why did she kill herself?

  “I can’t—I’ll never be at peace until I find out. That program I had you write—it will tell us where the virus came from. We can’t find a cure unless we know, unless we understand how it works.”

  She inhaled, and somehow having finally let the bear out of its cage made her feel lighter. They were quiet for a few moments. The clouds had completely covered the sky, and now even the moon was gone. Through the French doors, they saw that the others had left the common area and had gone for the night.

  “Thank you,” David said at last.

  “Thank you—for what?”

  “Thank you for sharing your mom’s story.” He bobbed his head, wringed the Coke can. Normally the clinking sound of the tin can would have made her snap. Yet now she hung to his words like a small child, craving more. “Knowing why you’re doing this makes you a lot more… likeable.” He flashed her a devious smile.

  A furrow crossed her forehead. “I uh—I suppose that’s a compliment?”

  “Oh. Of course. Absolutely. I mean—I get it now. What you’re trying to do. For your mom and all.”

  She opened her mouth to whisper a thank you even though she wasn’t quite sure a thank you was befitting, but she was interrupted by a loud tap. And then another, and another. Tap, tap, tap.

  A chilled drop of rain fell on her forehead, making her yelp. Black dots started blossoming on the wood planks and on the railing along the uncovered portion of the terrace.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  “Would you look at that!” David exclaimed, as the drops started coming down faster and faster.

  They both retreated under the roof eaves and watched, the air finally laden with much awaited moisture. Tap, tap, tap, came the rain, pelting faster and faster, the night suddenly frozen in the long awaited moment.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  “Oh, my God,” Anu mumbled. “That sound… I haven’t heard that sound in so long!” She inhaled. “And the scent, the scent of—wet.”

  The sweet scents of wet bark, firs and earth, as the thirsty land sucked it all in, wafted in the air. In a matter of seconds it was pouring, the humidity biting at her skin, chilly and refreshing as drops drummed on the roof eaves and splashed on the wood planks.

  David beamed. “Ha!” He held out a hand and watched the rain splash on his open palm. “Ha!” He flashed once again his devious smile and then stepped into the rain.

  Anu bulged her eyes and laughed. “You’re crazy!”

  David raised his arms and grinned, water washing on him. “Finally! I can shower for as long as I want!” He looked so ridiculous, his hair plastered against his freckled face and his ridiculous Tee, now drenched, glued to his skin, so unflattering and yet so… cute. She couldn’t help but find it all funny, despite the bleak news of the day, despite the frustration, despite of it all.

  David held out his hand. “Come on, get over here. It feels great!”

  She shook her head laughing, but he reached out and grabbed her and pulled her under the rain. She shrieked, the water freezing against her skin.

  “It’s cold!”

  He ran his hands through his soaked hair, splashing water all around. “Yes. Yes it is.”

  And yet so refreshing.

  So new.

  “Doesn’t it feel great?”

  Anu raised her head and stared into the black night sky, rain pelting against her face. “This,” she said.

  “This what?”

  “This is what’s left to hope for.”

  Life, she thought. Water is life.

  * FIVE *

  The circle is finally closing. Decades of research, failed experiments, sequencing—hundreds of hours of sequencing, buried in underground labs while DNA amplifiers cycled and computers ran line after line after line of code.

  And now the circle is closing. The world will soon be reined by chaos.

  Tomorrow, they’ll awaken and they’ll no longer see.

  Dr. Larry Stein walks down the hospital corridor, the lights dimmed for the night, the sounds muffled and hushed. Gone are the days when doctors frantically ran from bed to bed, when EMT’s kept rushing in mutilated bodies, limbs squashed, hands and toes dangling in plastic bags just in case they could be reattached. Blown-up heads, slashed guts, open chests.

  He’d seen it all.

  The outcome surpassed all expectations. The General will be happy.

  The shift nurse is getting ready for her night round. He spots her medication cart parked against the wall next to the decontamination room. Stein knocks on the jamb, making her jump.

  “You’re still here, Doctor,” she says, her voice as sweet as sugar glaze. She’s not surprised, not upset. Truly professional, as she dons her gloves and protective gear.

  “I wanted to personally check the patient,” Stein replies. He picks up a sealed head cover from the table and tears the
plastic lining.

  The nurse flinches, startled. “Are you sure, Doctor? You checked her vitals two hours ago. She’s due a new dose of Fluothane, and I’m happy to—”

  Stein smiles, and he knows he’s no beauty, but he can pull a charming smile. One of the tricks they teach you in med school these days, together with, ‘Don’t flinch when you make a diagnosis.’ He takes the face shield from her hands. “It’s late, Cynthia. Why don’t you go home? I’ll take over.”

  Go home. Take a nap. Call your loved ones.

  You’ve no idea what’s coming tomorrow, baby.

  She knows she can’t deny him when he asks because, really, his is not a request. It’s an order. Give it enough practice and people can be easy to manipulate, especially subordinates. A bunch of medical degrees on your shoulders and you’ve already got your say over most people.

  Something he never accepted. Being a subordinate. He was born to rule. Never had the physique, never had the stamina. Shut up, Stein. What are you talking about, Stein. You fucked up again, Stein. The whole entire world taking advantage of him. Which is why he ended up in this remote part of the country, as a mere occupational physician whose main purpose in life is analyzing employees’ piss to make sure it’s clean.

  Really.

  The nurse blinks, attempts a nervous smile. “Yes. Of course, Doctor. Thank you.”

  He watches her strip down her gown, fancies her stripping the rest of her clothes, just for one night, just for the fun of it. Too much flesh wobbling around, not his type, to be honest, though if she were to comply he could just close his eyes and give in. Flesh is flesh after all.

  But not tonight. Not with all that’s coming ahead.

  She smiles once more, wishes him a good night.

  You too, baby. You too.

  Yes, the outcome surpassed any expectation.

  No virus is perfect. HIV came damn close, attacking the host’s own immune defenses. Too bad for the infection route. A tricky one, that one. “Make love, not war” never got so far as to get the whole world infected with HIV.

  No, the full potential has always been with influenza. Tiny particles that could travel from one person to the next through aerosol—doesn’t get any better than that. Make them deadly and suddenly you’ve turned a sneeze into a machine gun. That’s what they had to work on, from the beginning.

  And yet even influenza has its limits. It takes time, but eventually a vaccine can be found. The biggest hurdle is to make it so infectious that there’s not enough time to find a vaccine. So infectious, or so … devastating.

  The nurse’s heels tap down the hallway. The clack of a light switch. The hum of an elevator. The click of a door.

  Stein dons the head cover, fluid resistant gloves, Tyvec booties. He tucks the facemask under the cover and pulls down the face shield.

  You don’t want to mess with little bugs like viruses.

  The best weapon of all.

  It may take a long time to create one good enough to kill the whole world. But once you have it, there’s no turning back.

  He rolls the medication cart all the way down to the infectious ward and pushes through the fire doors. The gentle swooshing of the ventilator echoes his steps as he walks inside room 101 and stares at the patient. My patient. Fully sedated, unaware that her brain is slowly dying.

  Yes, the circle is finally closing. All those years sucking it up are over.

  The world is about to hit it hard and I got myself a first row seat to watch it go down. Nice and slow.

  The General will be happy. Yeah, he will.

  He fishes a medication vial out of his lab coat pocket from underneath the gown, unwraps a fresh needle, and jabs it through the rubber top of the vial.

  There is no other way to take a military secured lab under strict surveillance unless you use the tiniest of weapons.

  A deadly virus.

  His lips stretch into a smirk as he pulls back the syringe plunger.

  And now the deadly virus is finally here.

  He leans over his patient and brushes a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol on the pale inner side of her arm.

  Time to wake up, sleeping beauty.

  Time to wake up.

  * SIX *

  It was past two a.m. when she finally crawled into bed. The downpour had tapered down to a steady drizzle, its soft pattering against the windows quickly lulling her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  By the time she opened her eyes again, broad daylight was seeping through the windows. It took her a moment to orient herself, the space around her unfamiliar. An office turned into bedroom—that’s when she remembered.

  This is not my room.

  We’ve been quarantined.

  She couldn’t believe her watch when she got up: it was past ten a.m. How did that happen? How could she waste almost a full morning sleeping? She stepped into the timed shower, dressed, and jogged down two floors to the common area. The place was unusually quiet. Jeff and a few others were seated on the armchairs arranged like in a waiting room, either reading papers or working on their laptops. She spotted David hunched over one of the terminals and wondered where the rest of the quarantined people had gone.

  Breakfast had been arranged on a long table—the usual tortilla wraps with tuna and beans, the tortillas getting staler and staler every day, and the veggie dish more meager. They were starting to feel the effects of the drought and of the massive exodus that had followed the nuclear explosion.

  Anu’s stomach growled. She grabbed a paper plate, stacked it with a couple of leftover wraps and went to check what David was doing.

  “Where’s everybody? Did they clear us?” she asked, stuffing her mouth. Funny how she’d gotten so used to the bland flavor she actually enjoyed them. Or maybe she just was so ravenous that her taste buds no longer cared.

  “I wish.” David stretched away from the keyboard and flashed her a smile that made her stomach lurch in a strange knot of guilt, one of those that come out of the blue with no forewarning.

  Guilt for what? I hired the guy to work for me.

  And now he was stuck in quarantine with her.

  It was his choice.

  “Where did they all go, then?”

  David looked over his shoulder to the semi-empty room. “Some techs came all garbed in overalls and told us they’d set up a gym for us downstairs, with treadmills and other stuff. There’s TV’s, books, more computers. All to make us comfy for the next two, maybe three weeks.”

  Anu choked on her food and almost dropped her plate. “What?” she wheezed, punching her chest and coughing. “That’s absolutely ridiculous, they can’t keep us in here that long.”

  David shrugged amiably. “So long as we have computers we can still work.”

  “I need the data!”

  She slumped back in a chair too big for her and sighed in frustration. Outside, the sky was still overcast, and a thick fog had replaced the dust. Whiffs of low clouds simmered across the canyon and lapped like waves at the edge of the mesa. Anu got up, left the paper plate with her half eaten lunch on the chair and walked out to the terrace.

  The air was still humid, laden with all the delicious scents left by the passing storm. Revived by the downpour, the ponderosa pines looked greener, the colors of the boulders suspended above the fog more vibrant.

  A distant thrumming caught her attention. She squinted at the blanched sky and spotted a tiny dot growing larger and larger.

  A chopper.

  She craned her head, waiting for the usual MQ-1 to swipe the sky, but no airplane roared and no siren blared as the helicopter drew closer, the drumming of its rotor blades breaking the silence of the high desert.

  It’s not raising any red flags, has to be an announced visit. Somebody important.

  She walked the whole length of the terrace around the building, and followed the helicopter as it entered the Lab’s air space and hovered over the covered parking garage, waiting for permission to land. The aircraft was a Koala, an ei
ght-seater with a single turbine engine. Same model that killed her father five years ago—she could recognize the model in a million. Three military vehicles circled the garage, waiting for the aircraft to land on the top floor of the structure. The nearby trees bowed as the chopper landed, swooshed its blades a few more minutes and then killed its engine. Silence fell over the place again, only a few ripples left on the silky surface of the fog.

  Anu counted at least a dozen Army Guard MPs watching as three men in different military uniforms—one had to be the pilot—exited the chopper and shook hands with the captain. The three guests were escorted to the ground floor and whisked away in one of the Lab’s VIP limos.

  And then something else happened. The captain commanding the MPs ordered more military vehicles to form a convoy to the Tawana building, where Joyce’s quarters and the Lab directorate was located. Apparently, they were taking no chances with a VIP visitor under the current perceived threat level. Still. How unusual for a VIP to visit on a high threat alert. This was certainly a first since the nuke explosion off the California coast.

  One block down, the genomic building was still closed, its main entrance crossed by red hazard tape. No military police were guarding it, though. All armored vehicles patrolling the premises had joined the procession to the Tawana Building. Anu leaned across the railing and craned her head to check the other buildings. She couldn’t spot a military vehicle anywhere.

  A ray of hope crossed her mind. It was devious, but she’d learned a long time ago that without a pinch of mischief you got nothing in return, forever stuck in the “you can’t do this” limbo. Rules were made to be broken.

  “Are you going to check out the gym downstairs?” David asked, as she stepped back into the common area.

  ‘Um, yeah. Sure, why not?” she lied, and then regretted it when he replied, “I’ll go with you, just give me a second.”

  “No,” she cut him off. “I’d rather you finish working on the program.”

  His eyes hardened. She read disappointment in them, and somehow it stung.

  “Right,” he said, returning his attention to the computer screen.